Memories Lost and Found
by snapple79
Summary: Andy loses her memory while undercover. Can Sam rescue her in time?
1. Chapter 1

Not really sure where this idea came from, but it popped up one day and wouldn't go away till I wrote this story. It's a two-parter and chapter 2 will be posted in a couple days. This is a bit darker than my fics usually are (but no Sam/Andy angst!), and I hope you all enjoy it. Oh, and in terms of Sam & Andy's relationship for this story, Jerry hasn't died yet and they never broke up. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Andy sat in the backseat of a car being driven by her new boss, Mark Gilbert. He was chatting away with her co-worker and new friend Casey. Andy nodded, smiled and threw in an 'okay' and 'mmhmm' here and there to make it seem like she was paying attention to their conversation. Instead, she thought about Sam. It had been nearly a week since she'd seen him at their scheduled meet, and one month two days and 12 hours since they had really been together. She missed him. They both knew it was going to be hard being away from each other when she took the assignment, but they also knew it would be worth it. If everything worked out, she'd help bring down a large drug smuggler in the Toronto area. That is, if she could find out who he was.

Guns & Gangs had spent months trying to find out who the new drug smuggler was that was making Toronto his new home. There were several small up and coming gangs trying to make a name for themselves by working with the new drug king. Two other undercover officers had been placed with other gangs, while Andy was assigned to Mark's. She'd already made friends with Mark, so goal number one was accomplished.

Now, all she needed was for Mark to trust her enough to introduce her to the big man, who he'd already met with a few times since she arrived. Unfortunately, he intentionally only let a couple people from his inner circle accompany him to those meetings, and she hadn't gotten an invite yet. If she couldn't get personally introduced to the drug smuggler himself, Plan B was for her to gain as much intel as possible about him so Guns & Gangs could find another way to get close to him. Right now, they were just at a loss for who the guy was or the specifics of how his operation worked. She just hoped she got a break soon because living in a crappy apartment and hanging around people who not only distributed drugs, but consumed them in large doses, was wearing on her. She also wasn't sure how much longer she could convince Mark, Casey and the rest that she didn't want to sample any of the drugs they distributed.

She looked down at her tattered skinny jeans, an old knit top that had seen better days and a thin jacket that did nothing to keep out the cold. She definitely couldn't wait to get back into her own clothes.

Andy's head flew up and her eyes went wide as she was snapped back to reality when she felt the tires lose traction on the icy road before the car sailed into a utility pole. As she was tossed around, her head collided with something hard. Her head was spinning and the world through her eyes looked like an old television with bad reception. She pressed a hand to her forehead trying to remember where she was, and soon felt someone tugging on her arm. "Andy, come on! Come on!"

"We have to get out of here, Casey! Get her out of the car!" Andy heard a man yelling as she stumbled out of the car and into the arms of the girl who had been tugging on her arm.

"You have to help me, Mark. She hit her head or something." Soon Andy felt herself being picked up and the man was running away from the car with the girl at his heels.

He nodded toward the bag Casey carried. "With all the product we have in that bag, you know we can't be there when the cops arrive," Mark scolded Casey as they fled the scene.

"I know, I know. She just, she wasn't moving. I didn't think you wanted me to leave her," she replied.

Andy wasn't sure what was happening as the pounding in her head took over all her senses. She eventually realized their pace had slowed and they were walking up to a rundown house.

Once inside, Mark placed her on the couch in the living room and Casey immediately sat by her side. "Andy? Andy? Are you okay? How do you feel?" she asked.

She pressed her hand to her forehead and searched her memory, but it was blank. "Is...Andy, is that my name?"

Casey's eyes went wide. "Don't you remember anything?"

She shook her head before quickly realizing that wasn't a good idea. It felt like a jackhammer was at work in her head. "I remember the accident, but that's it. I can't remember...I don't know who you are...who any of you are," she said, looking around at the handful of people standing around her.

"Sounds like amnesia," a voice from behind the couch suggested.

"Shut up, David, you're no doctor," Casey snapped.

"He's right," Mark said, walking up with a bottle of water and handing it to Andy. "Sounds like she might have some memory loss from hitting her head." He bit back a smile. Andy had been a tough nut to crack over the last month. She'd popped up out of nowhere wanting to work in his club and, soon after that, distribute for him. He found that she was a great worker, but he couldn't understand why she refused to try the product. And man, did he want to see the product loosen her up; those long legs she always showed off with her short skirts and those low-cut tops teased him more than he'd let on. Maybe now he could mold her into who he wanted her to be, and where he wanted her to be, in his bed.

When she brought a hand to her pounding head again, Mark pulled out a small box from a desk nearby. "I think you could use some relief from the pain," he said.

She sat up as he walked over to her and placed a small vile of a white powder Andy assumed was cocaine on the coffee table in front of her. Mark knew she always refused his offer, but what she couldn't remember wouldn't hurt her, he thought mischievously. She eyed it suspiciously.

Casey's eyes went wide. "Can I?"

Mark pretended to think about it and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, party's on me tonight."

Andy looked over at Casey. "Is that? Do I? I don't remember..." She frowned realizing how could she remember what she enjoyed when she wouldn't have even known her name if it wasn't for Casey.

Casey smiled and patted Andy's leg reassuringly. "It'll make you forget what you don't remember." She poured the cocaine out onto the table and took a hit, sighing in contentment before she looked over at Andy. "Your turn."

Andy was hesitant, but Mark and Casey were giving her reassuring looks and the pain in her head was atrocious. If this could help, why not? She immediately started feeling the effects of it and man, did she feel good.

That night, instead of going back to her apartment - since she had no idea where that was - she crashed in one of the empty beds in the house despite Mark's insistence she share his bed so he could watch over her. There was something about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she didn't want to be sharing a bed with him.

The next morning Andy listened as Casey told her about her life, a life she couldn't remember. They'd met about a month ago when she started working at Mark's club, right after she got off a bus from Vancouver to escape a lousy boyfriend. Casey said she hadn't told them much about her life prior to that. She explained that they both helped Mark with a side business he ran from the club, but hesitated before giving Andy any additional details. Andy put two and two together and figured it had something to do with the drugs, but didn't press Casey on it. There were more important questions to find answers to, like why she had this nagging feeling that this wasn't her life despite all the signs that proved it was.

Andy sighed. "Where do I live?"

Casey made a face while she thought about it. "I think it's some ratty apartment on East Avenue. You took me there once, but I was totally high," she said laughing. "Mark probably knows, but you should stick around here for a while, until we know you're okay. You don't want to be alone right now."

Andy frowned. Great, she didn't even know where she lived, although looking at the clothes she was wearing and Casey's description of a 'ratty apartment' she imagined she didn't have many possessions to care about. And Casey was probably right. With her head still foggy, it probably was best to be around other people.

Andy spent the next couple of hours lying on Casey's bed as she told her about Mark and the other guys Andy met last night. She tried to take it all in, so she could claim to have some memory, but it was hard to focus. She felt like something big was missing, something that Casey wasn't telling her or maybe didn't even know.

Eventually Andy changed into some clothes Casey offered her and they headed downstairs, where they found the men already having a good time. "Join the party ladies," David said, grinning.

Andy looked at the clock on the wall. "Uh, it's only 2 o'clock."

"You used to be the life of the party, sweetie," Mark said, making room on the couch and patting the cushion next to him. She reluctantly took a seat and accepted the beer he held out to her.

A feeling of uneasiness swept through her when his hand rubbed up and down her back, but she was hesitant to piss off the only people she knew, the only people who could help her remember who she was. And she had been with them in the car, so they had to be her friends, right? She gritted her teeth and pretended to have fun.

Hours later, the alcohol and drugs Mark was feeding her made it easier to have fun and she found she didn't really have to pretend anymore. She was needing less and less convincing to take whatever was offered to her. Mark smiled when he saw the drug-induced haze take over and used the opportunity to slide his hand under her top, caressing her back. She leaned into him and grabbed the beer he held and took a long drink.

"See sweetie, the life of the party," he murmured into her ear.

She had no idea with all the 'fun' she was having that she was missing her scheduled meet with Sam to report in on her undercover assignment.

* * *

Sam sat in a crappy diner on the outskirts of the city and looked at his watch for the hundredth time in the last 10 minutes. Andy was never late for one of their meets and here it was 30 minutes past when she was supposed to be there. He was trying not to worry, but anxiousness was flowing through his body. He was tapping his fingers nervously on the faded laminate of the table when the waitress came over and poured more stale coffee into his mug.

Another check of his watch a few minutes later and Sam was out of his seat and tossing a few bills on the table. Something wasn't right. As he jumped into his truck, he knew he was breaking protocol, but he didn't care. He sped over to her undercover apartment and resisted the urge to barge through the door. There was a small chance he was overreacting and maybe she just forgot about their meet. He couldn't blow her cover if that was the case. So, he casually knocked on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked harder. With still no answer, he let himself in with the extra key he kept.

"Andy," he called out when he entered the apartment. The unit wasn't that big and it only took a minute to realize she wasn't there. That's when he noticed the cameras weren't turned on, so if something had happened, no one would know. "Damnit Andy!"

He carefully took in the one-bedroom apartment. Nothing seemed out of place. It didn't seem like any struggle had taken place. He called her burn phone and listened as it rang and rang.

Ending the call, he stormed out of the apartment, dialing another number on his way. "Sterling," the Guns & Gangs detective answered.

"We have a problem," Sam said as he got in his truck.

"What did Andy tell you?" Sterling questioned, knowing they had a meet scheduled.

"Nothing, she didn't show. Something's wrong, I know it."

"Calm down Swarek. Meet me at headquarters. Don't do anything stupid."

Sam hung up without responding. He'd meet the detective, but Sterling was going to get a piece of his mind on how they lost track of his girlfriend.

His truck squealed into the parking lot and Sam wasted no time getting to Sterling's office.

"Why didn't anyone notice her cameras were off for so long?!" Sam demanded the moment he was face to face with Sterling.

"Hello to you too, Sam."

"Don't even. Why didn't anyone realize something was wrong?" he questioned, more calmly this time.

"We don't even know something's wrong. Calm down Swarek," Sterling said, shifting some files on his desk.

"She missed our meet. She wouldn't do that. Even if something came up or it became too dangerous she would let me know," Sam explained.

"Well, we need more evidence than your intuition about your _girlfriend_ before we ruin this whole op. If we rush in guns blaring and she's fine, it'll be your badge on the line," Sterling said.

"I don't care about my badge if Andy, if my _partner,_ is in trouble."

"Look, I'll have the team poke around, see what I can find. Let me remind you not to do anything stupid Sam."

"I'm gonna do my own _poking around_. I'll get you the evidence you need." Sam spun on his heel and stomped out of the room. He'd come up with his own plan, he'd find the confirmation Sterling needed and he'd rescue Andy.

Sam was pulling his truck out of the parking lot when his phone rang. "Swarek."

"Sammy, it's Oliver. I have a case here I think you should take a look at." He wasn't too keen on breaking the news over the phone, but needed to get Sam back to the station.

"Now's not a good time, Ollie. I'm a little busy with something."

As much as Oliver hated to tell him this way, he knew the words that would make his friend listen. "It has to do with McNally."

Sam slammed on his breaks, so he could change directions and head toward the station. "What happened?" Other than Sam, no one outside of Guns & Gangs was supposed to know anything about Andy's operation. However, Sam gave Oliver Andy's cover name, along with the names of the key people she was interacting with. Without giving his friend any other details, Sam asked him to keep an eye and ear out if any of those names popped up on any cases he worked.

"We were called to a motor vehicle crash and traced the car back to Mark Gilbert. There was no one at the scene, but there was as a phone in the car. Standard issue burn phone and your number's programmed in," Oliver explained.

"She's missing." Sam slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. He couldn't believe he let this happen.

"We don't know that, brother," Oliver said, trying to calm his friend down.

"No, she's missing. She didn't show for our meet. Shit. I'll be at the station in five." With that, he hung up and threw his phone into the passenger seat.

Oliver was waiting, file in hand, when Sam came jogging into the station. He flipped through the file, reading details about the accident. Based on the location, which wasn't far from the club Mark owned and Andy was working at, and the time of night the crash was reported by a nearby resident, it was a reasonable assumption that they were headed home after work. There was a hitch in his breath when he saw that blood was found in the backseat, which was also where Andy's phone was found.

"There wasn't any other evidence of trauma. And the hospitals didn't report anyone with her description coming in last night or this morning," Oliver said, knowing by the look on Sam's face what part of the report he was reading.

"Yeah, yeah. But she missed our meet today. She _never_ misses without telling me." Sam flipped through the report again trying to find more, to find something that would tell him she was okay.

"We can't figure out why they'd leave the car," Oliver said, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

"Drugs. Mark probably had drugs on him, was afraid of being arrested." He handed the file back over to Oliver. "I gotta go. Thanks for…"

"Hey, no thanks necessary," he replied. "I'll keep you posted if we get anything else."

Sam drove home and collapsed on his couch with a beer and a large file that contained all the information he had on Andy's undercover operation and all the key players. He'd been through all the information at some point or another, but he painstakingly went through every detail of information again. He had to find a way to get the confirmation Sterling was looking for and then come up with a plan the detective would approve of for a takedown. With any plan he thought up, Sam's main priority was going to be keeping Andy safe…and alive.

* * *

The next morning, Sam parked down the street from Mark's house and waited. By around noon, he thought about pretending to be a pizza delivery guy at the wrong house or someone given the wrong address for a friend's house, but simply knocking on the door wouldn't tell him if Andy was okay. So, until he came up with a better plan, he sat in his truck and waited, hopeful that at some point she'd leave the house.

More than an hour later, Sam saw a group of people exit the front door. He only saw the back of her head at first, but he'd recognize her long chestnut brown hair anywhere. When she turned around and began walking down the street with the others, even from a distance, he recognized the signs. She was either drunk or high, and neither was good. But he could risk Andy's life, if it wasn't already in danger, by making the wrong move.

For a moment, he held onto hope that she was just faking it, that she'd become a fantastic actor during this op and that she wasn't really high or drunk. He had to get confirmation that he could bring back to Sterling, so he got out of the truck and crossed the street. Acting as if he were just another guy in a rush to get somewhere, he smacked right into Andy. Their eyes met briefly as he quickly brushed past her and his worst fears were made even worse. Not only could he tell she was high, but she hadn't even looked at him like she knew who he was. Something was wrong, horribly wrong.

Andy felt her shoulder being practically dislocated as a man ran right into her. "What the hell?" she screamed as she looked at him. She had a fleeting thought that she knew him, but her mind wouldn't let any recognition take place. "Asshole!" she called as he stormed down the street.

Sam walked around the block before heading back to his truck. Once inside, he pulled his phone out. "I got the confirmation you needed. It's time to pull her out," he told Sterling before throwing his phone into the passenger seat. Andy was just a shell of her former self and it was killing Sam.

* * *

That night, Mark insisted Andy didn't need to work the club so she could relax and continue recovering from the accident. Still frustrated she couldn't remember anything, she agreed it was probably best to stay home. Well, in her temporary home. Mark had told her where her apartment was, but she had yet to go back there. She was scared. Scared that nothing there would feel familiar to her. Scared that it would really hit home that she had no memory if she walked in her apartment and didn't recognize a single thing.

Andy wasn't sure what she thought about Mark staying home with her, but figured it beat being alone. She was sitting on the couch trying to find something good on TV to watch when Mark came and sat beside her, invading her personal space.

"You know, we were starting to get hot and heavy before the accident," he lied, waggling his eyebrows seductively at her.

"Really?" she asked, not masking her surprise.

"I'm hurt you don't remember," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I just, I don't remember anything." She looked down at her fidgeting hands, and was surprised when Mark kissed the corner of her mouth gently.

"It's okay, sweetie," he said before covering her lips with his. He quickly deepened the kiss and Andy was too stunned to react as she felt his tongue exploring her mouth. It wasn't until his hand found its way underneath the sweater she wore and squeezed her breast that she pulled back and put a hand on his chest.

"Wait, stop...I'm not ready for this," she said, backing up against the arm of the couch.

Mark stood up and looked down at her with a scowl. "I'm not gonna wait forever. Get your act together, cause there are plenty more like you out there." With that, he stormed out of the room and Andy soon heard him slam a door upstairs.

Wanting to forget the feeling of his hands on her, she grabbed some cocaine from the box left out on the table and took a hit. She sat back on the couch, bringing her knees to her chest and rocking herself until the drugs took effect. As much as the powdery substance could help her forget, she let a few tears escape as she wished it could help her remember her life.

Hours later she practically crawled up the stairs and into a bedroom, and got ready for bed. She walked down the hallway to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth. When she was done, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was pale and had dark circles under her eyes. She felt like a different person and it wasn't only because of the memory loss, but she couldn't put her finger on what was making her feel that way. She sighed, realizing she should just be grateful she only suffered memory loss from the accident and that she had friends willing to take her in and comfort her.

She had no sooner walked out of the bathroom than she was being pushed against the wall with Mark's muscular body pressing into her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "I want you," he said huskily. "And I'm gonna have you." Her reflexes were slowed by the drugs and alcohol she drowned herself in before coming upstairs, so she simply stood there, back against the wall, arms hanging limply at her sides, eyes staring through the man that stood right up against her.

She let him run his lips along her jaw and neck, let him run his hands up and down her sides. This was the person that pulled her from the car, she reminded herself. This was the man who let her stay in his house, eat his food, use his drugs. She lost her reasons to fight him. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be, what her life was like before the accident. The life she couldn't remember. Her body stiffened only slightly when she felt his hands slip under the oversized t-shirt she wore and inch up her body until they squeezed and caressed her bare breasts. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to ignore what he was doing. She finally had the urge to fight when she felt one of his hands slip into her underwear, but before she could react, a door slamming downstairs had Mark jumping away from her like he'd touched a hot stove. She took the opportunity to run to the bedroom, slamming the door and collapsing onto the bed in the fetal position.

She tried, really tried, to live this life she was being reintroduced to, but she hated it. Hated all of it. She focused on the happy feeling of the drugs in her body and fell asleep with tear-streaked cheeks.

* * *

The next day, Sam stood at the front of the Parade Room as Sterling explained what was going to happen during the takedown and what everyone's role was going to be. "Remember, we have to be quick. In order to get them on anything, we can't allow them to flush any of the product. If we get enough evidence, we might be able to get one of them to flip on the big guy we've been after," he instructed.

Sam looked over at Sterling before meeting the eyes of his fellow officers – his friends, Andy's friends. "And don't forget, we have an undercover officer in the house and we don't know what condition she's in." He looked over to the photo of Andy on the bulletin board next to photos of Mark and his crew.

"We'll get her back safe," Oliver piped up from the back of the room. He knew many in the room, most importantly Sam, needed to hear those words.

Sterling dismissed everyone, and knowing they still had some time before they had to leave, Sam walked into the locker room and sat down on the bench in front of his locker. He opened his locker and pulled down a photo he had taped to the inside of the door. He wasn't big on photos, but Andy managed to capture a few of them here and there. In this particular photo, they were at a barbeque thrown by Oliver and Zoe – the first since he'd moved back home – and Andy was so happy things were looking up for Oliver that she'd been giddy all day. Suddenly, she pulled out her phone, leaned into Sam and told him to smile. He did, but it nowhere near matched the big toothy grin on her face. Once she'd taken the photo, she'd placed a messy kiss on his cheek and told him she'd never been happier.

Sam rubbed his thumb over her smiling face and closed his eyes. He just wanted her back in his arms, to know she was safe and unharmed. Two things, he couldn't be sure of right now. They both knew undercover work was dangerous, but it was a part of the job they both loved. However, that didn't make his heart break any less as he thought about what she might be going through right now.

He heard the locker room door open and as footsteps came closer, he opened his eyes. "Time to go," Oliver said. Sam nodded and instead of putting the photo back in his locker, he tucked it into the pocket of his pants.

* * *

When Andy heard the police storm into Mark's house, she jumped out a side window and began running down the alley. She'd only gotten about halfway to the next block when she felt a hand grab her waist and she was quickly tackled to the ground.

"Stop fighting me," a gruff voice said as she tried to free herself.

She felt a knee in her back as her hands were pulled behind her and she was handcuffed. "What is up with you? You don't need to make it look this good, Andy," Sam whispered.

When she was finally turned around and looked at the man holding her down, she furrowed her eyebrows trying to identify him. "Who are you?"

When he'd seen her run, he'd hoped it was just her playing the part. But now, when he looked into her eyes in the dark alley, he realized she wasn't playing a role. She had no idea who he was or that she was being rescued. "I'm Officer Swarek," he said, pulling her to a standing position.

He pushed her toward a cruiser parked in front of the house and at Oliver's questioning look as he passed by, Sam shook his head. He put her in the back of the cruiser and shut the door before laying his head on his hands on the top of the cruiser. He sighed, both out of relief that he had her back and out of sadness that something was _very_ wrong with her.

Oliver leaned against the other side of the car and looked at his friend. "Sammy, it's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out and she'll be okay."

Sam simply stared at his friend. He didn't know how things were going to be okay. All he'd seen when he looked Andy in the eye was a vacant stare. Without saying a word, he got into the cruiser and Oliver mirrored his actions.

As Oliver drove, Sam radioed back to the station. "This is 1509. We have a UC under arrest that we need to rush through. ETA 5 minutes."

"Copy that 1509. Booking will be cleared."

When they arrived at the station, Oliver made sure a path was clear as Sam brought Andy in and quickly found an empty interrogation room. She struggled, trying to get out of his grasp, but the hand he wrapped around her forearm only tightened. "Stop it," he demanded, quickly losing patience for this person Andy had become. He would usually have uncuffed an undercover officer by this point, but the way Andy was acting, he decided to leave the cuffs on, at least for the moment.

"Why am I here? Am I under arrest? What did I do wrong?" The questions kept flying out of Andy's mouth as she huffed and puffed around the room. She didn't know why officers had stormed Mark's house. Well, she guessed it had something to do with the drugs, but she couldn't even remember who she was, so she couldn't be tied to the drugs. They had no right to arrest her and keep her here.

He looked at her with eyes wide open, waiting for her shut up. When she finally caught on, she stopped moving her feet and her mouth. "Sit down," he requested.

"No, I don't wanna sit down. Tell me what I'm being charged with!"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, and motioned to one of the chairs. "Please, sit. I'll explain if you sit." He watched her sit down, but noticed she was uncomfortable with her hands cuffed behind her back. Since she seemed to finally be listening to him, he walked behind her - hating that she flinched when he reached down to touch her - and unlocked the handcuffs.

"Thank you," she mumbled, rubbing her wrists.

Sam took his time walking around the table, trying to think about what to say, and sat down in the chair opposite her. "What do you think your name is?" he asked.

"Andy Greenbaum."

"And where are you from?"

"I thought _you_ were going to give _me_ answers," she said. When he simply stared at her, she finally answered his question. "Vancouver. Got to Toronto a month ago."

"Andy..." Sam sighed. "That's not who you are."

"And how the hell would you know, Mr. Hotshot cop?"

He pulled out the photo he'd kept in his pocket all night and placed it on the table, slowly sliding it over to her. She looked at the photo and saw herself with the cop who was sitting in her front of her. She looked up at him and back at the photo very confused. "What is…I don't get it."

"You're Andy McNally, my girlfriend. You're an officer here at 15 Division. You were on an undercover assignment. We're not really sure what happened, but there was an accident and it seems you have some memory loss," he explained.

She slumped back in the chair and stared at a coffee stain on the table that hadn't been cleaned. That something she felt missing as Casey and Mark tried to fill in the blanks was this, her real life. "How is this possible?" If the room hadn't been completely silent, Sam wouldn't have heard the question, wouldn't have heard the tremble in her voice.

"I don't know. You were supposed to check in two days ago. When you didn't, I knew something was up. We went - "

"In the car accident, I hit my head," she interrupted him.

Sam nodded, having guessed that's what happened.

"And yesterday…I saw you yesterday, didn't I?" she asked, thinking he looked a lot like the man that had run into her on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, I was checking up on you," he confirmed. "When you didn't recognize me, it proved I was right and something was wrong."

"What happens now?" she asked.

"Tell me everything you know, anything you can remember, anything you've been told about your life," Sam said.

For the next half hour, Andy struggled to remember everything Mark and Casey had told her about her life. It wasn't much, but she told Sam what she knew. For some reason, even though she couldn't remember him, she felt comfortable with him.

When she was done, Sam reached out and took one of her hands in his. "There's one more thing I need to know," he said, knowing he really only needed confirmation. He saw her bloodshot eyes, dilated pupils, how she kept sniffling, and the restless behavior as she bounced her leg or tapped her nails on the table. "Did they have you doing drugs?" Andy bit her bottom lip and nodded. "We'll figure this all out, okay?" She nodded, but she wasn't as confident as he looked.

When Sam left the room, she resumed tapping her nails anxiously on the table. She was nervous and scared and really needed a hit right now. She closed her eyes thinking about how the white powder eased her mind, relaxed her, released the tension. She really needed some.

Sam walked into the observation room and saw Frank, Oliver and Sterling looking through the two-way glass.

"Okay, get her to a hospital to get her head checked out," Frank ordered.

"Sir, if we do that, they're going to have to report her drug abuse. Undercover or not, you know what that can do." Sam was worried about Andy, but knew she'd be pissed if her career was ruined because of this.

"What are you suggesting Swarek?" Sterling asked.

"Let me take her home, give me a couple days to get the drugs out of her system. Then I'll take her to hospital. Look, I'm worried about her and the loss of memory, but I know Andy and she didn't take those drugs willingly. She shouldn't have to suffer because of it," he pleaded.

"Fine, get her out of here and _do not_ leave her alone," Frank agreed. "And Sam, don't make me regret this."

Sam nodded and walked out of the observation room and back into the interrogation room.

"Look, you don't deserve to be locked up, so they'll allow you to go home, your real home, if you allow me to stay with you." He walked around to the side of the table she sat on and leaned back against it as he looked down at her. "It's your choice. You can stay here, locked up in a cell till we figure things out, or go home."

"Home," she replied softly.

He reached his hand out and she stared at him, as if sizing him up, before her hand met his. He pulled her out of the chair and led her to his truck.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting this story! Here is the second, and last, part to this story. Enjoy! And please leave a review to let me know what you think of it. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue.

* * *

**Chapter 2 **

Sam unlocked the door to Andy's condo and held it open, waiting for her to enter. She took a few hesitant steps forward, standing just inside the door. He pushed her slightly forward with a hand on her lower back, so he could squeeze through the doorway and close the door behind him.

"So, this is my place?" she asked.

"Yup. Have a seat. You want anything?"

She took off the jacket he'd given her at the station and laid it across the back of the couch as she sat down. "You're here to help, right?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"I need something."

"What? Water? Something to eat? I don't think you have much here, but I can order something," he offered.

"No, I need _something._ Just a little, just to get to sleep," she pleaded.

His heart sank. She was asking for drugs. Ignoring her request, he pulled out his phone. "I'll order us some pizza. You need to eat."

She saw a look of pity in his eyes and cringed. She didn't want pity. She wanted something to make her feel better, to just make her _feel_ less. She needed something to take away the fact she didn't recognize her own home. Nothing seemed familiar, not the white ceramic decoration on the coffee table, not the rainbow stripped pillow on the couch, not the books on the shelves. She stood up and mouthed the word 'bathroom' to Sam as he called in a pizza delivery order. She followed the direction of where he pointed, finding the bedroom and then the bathroom. She paused in front of the bed and wondered how someone couldn't remember anything about their life. She sighed and continued walking toward the bathroom. She closed the door and opened the medicine cabinet. Her eyes scanned all the unfamiliar items. Not finding what she was looking for, she started rummaging through the drawers under the sink.

Sam hung up after ordering Andy's favorite pizza and cursed himself as he realized what she was probably doing in the bathroom. He half-sprinted through her condo and tore open the bathroom door, thankful she hadn't thought to lock it. Her fingers had just circled around an orange prescription bottle. "Andy, don't…please."

Tears started to build up in her eyes. She needed this. She needed something. Her hesitation allowed Sam to grab the bottle from her hands and he realized it was the pain medication she'd been given after being shot more than a year ago. He opened the bottle and poured the pills down the toilet.

"C'mon, why don't you shower and change. It'll make you feel better. The pizza will be here in about half an hour," Sam suggested. She nodded and put a hand on the door, but Sam stopped her. "I'm sorry. I can't. I don't know what else might be in here." He prayed she understood that he was only looking out for her, for who she used to be.

When she reached into the shower, turning the water on to let it heat up, Sam turned around to give her some privacy. God knows, they'd seen each other naked before, but that was with _his _Andy. To this Andy, he was a stranger. After hearing the shower curtain open and close, he moved and leaned back against the wall. He rubbed a hand over his tired face. He wasn't sure how to get through this. How was he supposed to get _his_ Andy back?

Nearly 45 minutes later they sat on her couch with pizza and bottles of water on the coffee table in front of them. Sam was already on his second slice, but Andy continued to refuse, claiming she wasn't feeling well. He wasn't sure if she was just being stubborn or if the withdrawal had already started, so he didn't push.

When her leg started bouncing and she couldn't stop her fingers from fidgeting, he knew it was the withdrawal. "You doing okay there?"

"Why are you even here? To eat my pizza?" she snapped at him.

Sam only returned her glare with a smile. "Can't let good pizza go to waste and if you're not - "

"I hate you! Get out!" she screamed and jumped off the couch.

"No." He tossed his half eaten slice of pizza on a paper plate, preparing himself for a fight.

"No? Isn't this _my_ condo? I'm telling you to leave!" she shouted.

Sam stood up and took a step toward her, stopping when she took a step back. "If I'm not here, you spend the night in a jail cell or handcuffed to a hospital bed. Make your choice," he said calmly.

"Please, just give me something. Please. I need it." She continued to repeat the last sentence, her voice getting quieter and Sam stepping closer each time the words came out of her mouth.

He placed his hands gently around her arms to hold her in place as he spoke. "Andy, listen to me. We need to get the drugs out of your system. It's only going to get worse."

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she lost the fight she had minutes earlier. "Pleeeease," she begged.

"How about you try and sleep instead?"

Andy shook her head, but let Sam guide her to the bedroom. She climbed under the covers and noticed immediately how much softer these were then the ones she'd been sleeping on the last few days. She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball, trying to ignore how her body was involuntarily shaking.

Sam shut the lights off and walked into the living room to clean up. He returned a few minutes later and found her already fast asleep. He knew the mood swings, the exhaustion, the craving for more were all part of the withdrawal. He laid down on the bed, keeping his distance from Andy, but wanting to watch over her.

Sam woke up when he heard Andy getting sick in the bathroom. He sat up and was about to go comfort her when she walked back into the bedroom. She climbed into bed and Sam saw she was shivering. He got up and grabbed her hoodie lying on the chaise and helped her into it. She zipped it up and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm so cold."

Sam sat down next to her on the bed. "I know. The feeling will go away. I promise."

"How do you know? What if I don't want to feel like this? What if I just want to feel good?"

"Go back to sleep," he said lying down.

"No." Now she just wanted to be stubborn because he wasn't fighting back with her. She wanted him to argue so she could scream and yell at him. But he wasn't and that pissed her off more.

"Andy, it's 3am. Lie down and go back to sleep. You'll be up puking again before you know it."

She grumbled something Sam thought sounded like "asshole," but he let it go. When she laid down again, Sam rolled on his side and pulled the heavy comforter up over her shoulders. She jerked away when his hand lingered on her shoulder, and he sighed as he rolled onto his back. He kept reminding himself it was the drug withdrawal talking, but part of him wondered if he'd ever get _his_ Andy back.

Two hours later he was hit with the comforter as it was flung across the bed. Blinking his eyes repeatedly forcing them to focus, he watched Andy stumble out of the room and heard her padding through the living room. He got out of bed and leaned against the doorframe as he watched her make her way to the kitchen, bumping into the couch and table as she refused to turn on any lights.

When the kitchen was illuminated by the light from refrigerator as she opened the door, he walked toward her, turning on the light above the kitchen island. She jumped at the brightness and spun around to see him standing there, watching her. She held the container of leftover pizza in her hand and the look on her face was similar to that of a child stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. "I was hungry," she said sheepishly.

"I can warm that up for you," he offered.

She shook her head and pulled the top off the container. She grabbed a piece of pizza and took a large bite. "S'ok. Cold pizza is fine," she mumbled with a mouth full of food. Sam simply leaned against the island and watched the first slice disappear quickly before she grabbed for a second.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. She answered simply with a shrug of her shoulders.

She finished her fourth slice of pizza in no time and put the remaining leftovers back in the fridge before grabbing a bottle of water. "Do you have to just stand there and watch me?"

Sam smirked and shrugged his shoulders, deciding he'd be as difficult as she was being. She pouted, then proceeded to drink half the bottle of water. "Whatever," she said, putting the bottle down and returning to the bedroom.

* * *

They were midway through the next day when Sam had to hold Andy down in bed as she went through the withdrawal from the drugs. "Let me go!" she screamed. He gripped her wrists in one of his hands as she tried to slap and claw at him.

He finally calmed her down, but held in her in a bear hug, her back pressed to his chest, to prevent her from lashing out again. A short time later, he felt her fingers prying at his arms. "Andy, stop," he warned.

"No, no, I need the...I'm gonna..." She managed to point a finger toward the bathroom and Sam realized what she needed. He no sooner released his hold on her than she was jumping out of the bed and running for the bathroom.

When he heard a thud, Sam jumped up and found her lying on the bathroom floor, the rug bunched up near one of her feet. How many times had he told her to get one of those rugs that had the sticky backing on them? He kneeled down beside her and caressed her head, finding a bump already forming.

"Ow. Sam, that hurt." The words were no sooner out of her mouth, than she was hoisting herself over the toilet and puking. "That's so ladylike," she scoffed, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

There was something in her tone, something in the way she said his name. "Do you remember me?" he asked hesitantly as he rubbed a hand soothingly up and down her back.

"Why are you looking at me like I have three heads, Sam?"

"Andy, you have to answer me. Do you remember who I am?"

Feeling something in her throat, she leaned over the toilet to throw up again before looking back at Sam. "Of course, why wouldn't I?"

He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and kissed her temple, letting his lips linger against her skin. "Let's get you back into bed and I'll explain."

"You want me in bed? After this?" She quirked her eyebrows and waved a hand toward the toilet.

Sam shook his head, standing up and pulling Andy with him. He flushed the toilet while she rinsed her mouth with water, and then he walked her over to the bed.

"Sam, what's wrong with me? Why am I sick?" she asked when she was sitting comfortably in bed with her back against the headboard. Her head was a little foggy and she couldn't remember coming down with the flu or food poisoning or anything that would make her that sick.

"Short answer, you're going through withdrawal," Sam replied.

Suddenly, things started to click and Andy had more questions before she could even process what Sam had said. "Wait, why am I home? What happened to the operation?"

"You missed our scheduled meet. We know now that the night before you were in a car accident. You hit your head and we think that caused the memory loss," he explained.

"So, when I slipped in the bathroom and hit my head again, my memory came back?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've heard it can happen that way, although I have to admit, I never imagined your clumsiness could make me so relieved," he teased. She rolled her eyes, but leaned into his touch when his hand was on her cheek.

"Why am I going through withdrawal?" she asked, thinking back to the first thing Sam had told her.

"With your memory gone, you leaned on Mark and Casey." He paused waiting to see if she knew who he was talking about. She nodded and he continued. "All they knew about you was your cover, so that's what they filled your head with. And apparently Mark kept feeding you drugs and alcohol."

Sam put an arm around her shoulders and she curled into him. "The last thing I remember is being in a car with Mark and Casey. How long ago was the accident?" she asked. Her fall in the bathroom had brought back her old memories, but seemed to erase anything that happened after the accident.

"Four days. Three since I knew you were in trouble. And less than 24 hours since we rescued you."

"How?" she asked, as she fisted the material of the t-shirt he wore and curled into him even more.

He wasn't sure which part she was asking about, but knew she'd want to hear everything. "The moment you missed our meet, I knew something was wrong. Sterling wasn't as convinced, so I had to get proof. I saw you with Mark and the gang on the street, and you were high and didn't recognize me. It took us a day to get the takedown approved and planned...the longest day of my life."

Andy shivered, pulled the cuffs of her hoodie over her hands and wrapped her arms around herself. "This isn't over, is it?"

Sam shook his head. "It'll come in waves." He rubbed a hand up and down her back to sooth her. He slid them both down so they were lying down, Andy curled into him again, and he pulled the comforter tight over her.

"You're warm," she said, trying to smile, but the shaking of her body prevented it from fully forming.

He hugged her closer. "Try and relax. Sleep if you can."

Despite what her body was going through, sleep was all she wanted. She fought her eyelids, wanting Sam to tell her more details about what happened, but it was a losing battle. Sam brushed the hair off her face as he watched her sleep.

Nearly two hours later, Sam had just started to doze off when he felt Andy tear herself away and sprint to the bathroom. Thankful he'd thought to kick the rug aside, he knew she wouldn't slip and hit her head again, but he got up to make sure she was okay. He rubbed her back as she leaned over the toilet.

"When will this stop?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"Soon."

She stood up and brushed her teeth as he stood against the wall watching her. "I'm starving," she said, surprising Sam. "I mean, I know I just threw up, but I can't help it. I'm hungry."

He chuckled and guided her out of the bathroom with a hand on the small of her back. "I doubt you've been eating much lately. I don't think you have much food here, but we'll find something." Andy watched as he moved around her kitchen like it was his own. She watched him pull out a can of soup and while it was heating up, he dug through her cabinets for crackers. "Go sit," he said, nodding toward the couch. "I'll bring everything over in a minute."

She did as he instructed and curled up on the couch, waiting until Sam brought her a bowl of soup and a bottle of water. "Thanks," she said, digging right in. Sam made a sandwich for himself and they remained silent as they ate and watched some comedy Andy found on TV.

When she was finished, she placed the bowl on the coffee table and turned toward Sam, her eyes taking in every inch of his face before deciding she had to tell him what she was thinking. "Sam?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes found hers, but he didn't say anything. "Thank you...for always being there when it matters."

He hesitated for a moment before leaning in and placing his lips on hers lightly. He started to pull back, but Andy's hand flew up to the back of his neck stopping him. When they finally parted, Andy smiled. "I needed..." she trailed off embarrassed to admit she needed that kiss more than she needed to breathe right now.

He could read her mind by the look on her face and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Grabbing a pillow from behind her he scooted to the other end of the couch. "C'mere," he said, patting the pillow he put on his lap. Andy laid down, resting her head on the pillow, and looked up at Sam. He pulled the throw off the back of the couch and covered her. "Try and sleep."

"I just woke up," she protested, as she intertwined their fingers and laid their joined hands on her chest.

"The more you sleep, the quicker you'll get through this." He wasn't really sure if that would speed the healing process up, but it sounded good in his head. With his free hand, he massaged her scalp, hoping it would help relax her and let her fall asleep.

A couple hours later, she woke up and ran to the bathroom without saying a word. By the time Sam followed her, she'd already thrown up and was brushing her teeth. He leaned against the door frame watching her and wishing he could take away the pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She put her toothbrush down and turned toward him. "You're not the one who got me hooked on drugs, Sam."

"But I encouraged you to take this assignment," he said, shaking his head at himself.

Her hand reached out for his and gave it a squeeze. "You know I would've taken it without your extra encouragement. I _wanted_ this assignment. Neither of us could've known."

"Yeah, but I'm supposed to protect you." He pulled her toward him and wrapped his free arm around her. He hadn't realized until she was up against him that she was shivering, and he hugged her tighter.

"You did. You realized something was wrong. You found me."

Andy's forehead was pressed against his neck and he could feel how cold and clammy she was all of a sudden. "Let's get you into bed, okay?" She nodded in response and he led her over to her bed, climbing in next to her once she laid down.

She rested her head on his chest as he pulled the warm blankets over them with one hand and held her close with the other. "How do you know so much about going through withdrawal?" she asked.

"I've been around enough junkies to know." He pressed his lips together for a moment as he realized he was going to tell her something no one but Jerry and Oliver knew. "And I...Jerry and Oliver may have helped me through my own withdrawal once." Her eyes went wide and she tilted her head so she could look up at him, but stayed silent so he would continue.

"It was my second real deep cover assignment. I'd done lots of little undercover jobs, but this was only the second time where I knew going in that it could take months." He sighed, remembering the excitement he had when he was asked to take the job.

Andy's eyes roamed his face, wondering what he was thinking. When he remained silent, she prodded him to continue. "What happened?"

His eyes met hers before continuing. "Things weren't moving fast enough for me after about a month and I got bored. Maybe not bored, but I was sick of having to fake the drugs. The boss, he always wanted everyone to try the product and I got tired of finding new ways to fake it. One day, I didn't. Told myself it would only be a one-time thing. A week later, I went back to faking it in front of him, slipping the product into my pocket like usual. I stood in front of the toilet in my cover apartment for half an hour, trying to force myself to flush it like I normally did. But, I couldn't."

He stared at the ceiling, his eyes not really focusing on anything in particular. "And it didn't stop there. A few weeks later, my handler finally figured out something was wrong and pulled me out. He wouldn't admit he knew, probably for the same reason I refused to take you to the doctor until you're clean. But he knew. A week after I was back, I found myself handcuffed, literally, to Jerry's spare bed and Oliver pouring a bowl of ice cold water over my head. Let's just say I was more stubborn than you were when it came to wanting more."

"So, you knew how to help me because you went through the same thing." It was a statement more than a question and Andy couldn't decide if it made her happy or sad that, because of his own struggle, he was able to help her. "I didn't know."

"No one other than Jerry or Oliver knows the story."

"Not even..."

"No, I couldn't tell Sarah. She's scared enough when I go undercover as it is."

"Thanks," she said, snuggling into him.

"For what?"

"For telling me." She buried her face into the crook of his neck, placing a kiss against his warm skin. "For saving me."

* * *

_Two days later_

When Sam decided enough time had passed for the drugs to clear her system, he took her to the hospital to get her head checked out. Flashing his badge, he explained he had a patient that needed to be seen for previous head trauma. Less than half an hour later, they were escorted into a room and Andy sat on the side of the bed. The nurse took Andy's vitals before letting them know Dr. Martin would be in shortly.

Andy told the doctor what she knew, including what Sam had shared with her about what she was like when he found her.

"Okay, I'd like to run some tests that will give me a better idea of what's going on." He jotted some notes down on her chart. "A nurse will be back shortly to take some blood and bring you upstairs for an MRI. I'll be back once we have the results."

The nurse came in soon after and drew some of Andy's blood before telling her she'd be right back to take her upstairs. Andy frowned when the nurse returned with a wheelchair. "My legs aren't broken, you know."

"Hospital policy Ms. McNally," the nurse replied. As Andy reluctantly got off the bed and into the wheelchair, the nurse looked at Sam. "This will take a while, so you're welcome to go to the cafeteria on the first floor."

"I can't go with her?" he asked.

"Sorry, just the patient."

"Sam, just go...get a cup of coffee or something. I'll be fine," Andy insisted.

He hesitated, but realized he wasn't going to argue with hospital policy. "Okay, but if I'm not back by the time you are, call me."

Andy smiled at how concerned he was about her and nodded.

An hour later, Sam was sitting in the chair beside the bed when the nurse wheeled Andy back in the room. She quirked her eyebrows at him, wondering if he had even left the room. He shook an empty coffee cup toward her and answered her unasked question. "I got coffee."

Andy leaned down to place a kiss on his lips before sitting on the bed.

"How'd it go?" Sam asked.

Andy shrugged. "Don't know. They said the doctor would be in shortly to go over everything."

No sooner had the words left her mouth, than Dr. Martin was walking into the room, reviewing some papers in his hand. Re-attaching the papers to her chart, he finally looked up, his eyes glancing between Sam and Andy.

"Good news," he said. "There are no signs of serious trauma. You do have a mild concussion, but since it's been several days since you hit your head, you're out of the woods in terms of serious concern. Just be aware of any changes to your vision or if you start forgetting simple things. Get to the ER immediately if that happens."

"There are pieces of time after the accident that I don't remember. Will I get those missing memories back?" Andy asked.

"The brain is a weird thing, so the short answer is I don't know. You may remember bits and pieces. Objects might trigger memories. A mug sitting on a table, for instance, might open up memories of what you did for breakfast on those missing mornings," he explained. "Memories might come back in dreams. Or they could just come flooding back all of a sudden. But you have to be prepared that you may never remember anything."

"Thanks doctor."

"If anything changes, I want to see you back here," Dr. Martin said, shaking her hand. "And, memory loss can be a tough thing to get over. I'd suggest talking to someone about it."

"The department's requiring a therapist before she's cleared for work again," Sam interjected as he watched Andy frown.

"That's good," Dr. Martin replied. "Okay, the nurse will have your discharge papers for you and you're all set to go home."

"You okay?" Sam asked when the doctor left.

Andy shrugged. "I guess I hoped he'd find something that he could fix."

"I know you want to get your memories back, but just give it time. Talking to the department therapist might help," he said.

She scrunched her nose up in distaste. She hated therapists, but knew if she ever wanted her job back she was going to have to see one. "I guess I should make an appointment."

"Already taken care of. It's set for tomorrow at 1pm," he replied.

"What? Why would you do that? You didn't even ask me."

"Andy, you know you have to see the therapist before Frank will even consider bringing you back to work, even for desk duty. I figured you'd want to get it over with as soon as possible, and I had some time to kill while you were getting the MRI," he said, walking over to her and putting a hand on her leg.

"I do. I'm sorry. Thank you. I just, ugh, I hate the thought of pouring my thoughts out to some stranger." She leaned toward him and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

"You _have _to talk to the therapist, but you can talk to me too. I won't pressure you, but you know, I'm a good listener," he said, wrapping an arm around her.

"I know," she said softly. She leaned into him as the nurse came into the room with her discharge papers.

* * *

That night, Andy was sick of being cooped up in her condo and wanted to feel normal again, so she convinced Sam they should go out. After a casual dinner at her favorite pizza place, they returned to her condo. As they walked in the door, Sam's phone rang and Andy quickly realized it was his sister.

She left Sam in the living room to talk to Sarah, while she went into the bedroom and lit the candles already sitting on her dresser and bedside tables. She shut off the lights and stripped off her sweater and jeans, leaving her in a tank top and underwear. She sat in bed and waited for Sam, which only took a few minutes.

"Hey…what's going on?" he asked when he walked into the room. He slowly walked toward the bed, taking in the burning candles.

She couldn't read the look on his face and for some reason it gave her butterflies. "I thought…Tonight was nice and…Just felt like using the candles." The words were a copout, but she had suddenly become so nervous, she couldn't tell Sam why she really lit the candles. She let out a small sigh, frustrated with herself, before lying down and pulling the comforter over her.

"Andy…" He knew something was wrong and sat on the edge of the bed so he could look down on her. She closed her eyes, wishing she could melt into the mattress and avoid any embarrassment. "Andy, what's wrong?" His palm covered her cheek as his thumb rubbed a soothing pattern back and forth.

"Nothing. I'm fine," she said, still not opening her eyes. It felt like an eternity had passed before she finally opened her eyes to see Sam staring at her wide-eyed. He was waiting for her to tell him what was wrong and she knew she wasn't going to get away with telling him she was fine.

"It's just…you…since I got back..." Andy took a deep breath to help get the words out and tried again. "You haven't wanted to…You haven't touched me in _that_ way since I got back. It's like I'm tainted or broken or something."

"What?" That thought had never crossed his mind. He was simply giving her some space while she returned to her normal life. "It's not that I haven't wanted to, Andy. I didn't want to overwhelm you. God, from the moment I got you back, I wanted to kiss you senseless."

Andy blushed, both from his words and from the embarrassment that she had been totally wrong. She bit her bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

"Is that what the candles are about?" he asked, taking another look around the room.

She nodded. "Yeah, I thought – " The rest of her words were cut off when Sam crushed his lips to hers.

He felt her smile against his lips and as his hands framed her face, he pulled back and nudged his nose with hers. "I thought you'd need time," he whispered.

"I don't." She lifted the comforter up and Sam climbed under so he was lying on top of Andy. "I need _you_." He leaned down to kiss her before her fingers tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head. She slid her palms up and down his chest as his lips found hers again.

* * *

They'd been asleep for hours when Andy's eyes flew open and she bolted up in bed. She told herself it was just a nightmare, but it seemed so real. She couldn't let herself deny it; she was remembering parts of her lost memory. She could feel Mark's hands all over her, his mouth on hers. She shivered and wrapped the blanket around her. Had he...? Did she allow him to...? No, she tried pulling more from the memories and was confident he hadn't forced himself completely on her.

She looked over at Sam and lied back down, hoping she hadn't woken him up. No such luck. "What's wrong?" he asked, laying a protective arm across her waist and opening his eyes.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

Sam sighed. "Andy..."

"I think I'm getting some of my memories back," she said hesitantly.

"That's great. What did you remember?"

"Promise me you won't do something stupid?" she asked.

"Andy..." he said, narrowing his eyes. "Why would I do something stupid?"

"Cause I think I'm remembering Mark trying to have sex with me." She bit her bottom lip and counted down - 3, 2, 1 - for her words to register in his sleepy state. When they did, his eyes flew wide open and he propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her.

"What? He did what?"

"Sam, calm down." She rested her hand on his chest and tried to get him to focus on her. "I said _tried_. I remember his hands on me...everywhere. It's bits and pieces of images, but I'm pretty sure nothing ever happened."

"I'm gonna kill him," he said through gritted teeth. He flipped the covers back and would have jumped out of bed if it wasn't for Andy's quick reflexes and the hand she got around his arm.

"Sam, please," she begged. She knew he'd be at the jail in a flash, punching the lights out of Mark if she let him go. "Please, don't leave me right now."

His eyes were on hers instantly and he laid back down. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeated over and over as he held her close.

She rested her head on his shoulder as her fingers played with the hair on his chest. "If those are my memories, I don't want to remember," she mumbled.

He rubbed a hand up and down her back. "Whether you want to remember or not, promise me one thing, talk to the therapist about it tomorrow?" He looked down at her, waiting for her eyes to meet his. "Andy?"

She finally tilted her head so she could look up at Sam. "I promise." He kissed her temple, letting his lips linger over her skin. What he wouldn't do to switch places with her so he was the one going through all this.

"You don't have to, but, uh, do you want to talk about it?" he asked, hoping she would confide in him.

Andy was silent for several minutes, her eyes tracing the curves of his jaw and the lines of his mouth. She opened her own mouth, but closed it before any words could come out. She didn't want to push his restraint by telling him about the images she saw in her mind of her and Mark, but she wanted to share what she was going through. He wanted to know and she wanted to tell him.

She looked him in the eye and swallowed thickly. "He tried to make me think him and I…that we were together before the accident." Sam's hand continued rubbing up and down her back in soothing motions, stopping occasionally to play with the ends of her hair, as she forced herself to continue. "The memory that came tonight…I thought he was going to rape me."

"Andy…" he sighed, his heart breaking again for what she went through. He could only be thankful that somehow Mark hadn't succeeded.

"I wasn't fighting him. Why wouldn't I fight back?"

He saw emotion and failure in her eyes and wrapped both arms around her to hold her close. "You don't know what he was filling your head with. You can't blame yourself when you only have a small piece of your memory of that time."

She laid her head in the crook of his neck and sighed.

Sam realized that's all he was going to get out of her tonight. "You think you can get back to sleep?" he asked. She nodded and he let his hand lazily draw patterns on her back, hoping to sooth her into sleep.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, bits and pieces of her memory slowly came back, but there were large chunks of time she still couldn't remember. In some ways, she thought maybe it was better that way. She'd attended several sessions with her therapist, and as much as she hated it, it was helping her deal with what happened. The best thing was that she was making enough progress that Frank was allowing her back at work. She was stuck with desk duty until fully cleared by the therapist, but at least she was back at work.

Leaving parade on the first morning back, Sam pulled her into an empty interrogation room. He framed her face in his hands as he looked into her eyes. "You sure you're okay to be back?" he asked concerned.

"I'm fine, Sam. All I'm gonna be doing is answering the phones and filing reports. I'll. Be. Fine." He leaned in to kiss her and her arms circled his waist.

"Call me if you need anything," he told her when they parted.

"What if I need more of this?" she asked, smirking.

"I'll hit the lights and sirens to get back here," he joked, dimples on full display.

She gave him another quick kiss. "Be safe."

"You too. Don't get any paper cuts or anything," he teased. Andy rolled her eyes and playfully slapped him as they walked out of the room.

She smiled as she watched him walk down the hall toward the door to the parking lot. She knew that no matter what she was faced with, whether on the job or off the job, as long as Sam was there with her, she'd be able to get through it.

* * *

The End.


End file.
